“Would you not regard his going to London in the light of a jest?” he asked.
“Not I, sir!” she cried. “On the contrary, I have done my best to dissuade him from such a project, knowing as I do, how serious a thing it would be for him. But you boys are all equally self-willed, Dick; I can do nothing with any of you. I am as the potter’s clay in your hands.”
“How does Tom Linley mean to live when he goes to London?” he asked, after a pause.
“Lud, sir! how should I know?” she cried very prettily, holding up her hands.
“You do not mean to take him up to London with you to starve?” he said.
“And this is the man who swore just now that I had the kindest heart among living women!” she cried. “Mr. Sheridan, did you come hither to-day solely to talk about Tom Linley?”
“Yes,” he said, “solely to talk about Tom Linley. My dear creature, I shall have to throw myself on the kindness of your heart before I have done, for I want to tell you the truth.”
“You had much better refrain, sir, from venturing into such an unexplored region,” said she. “I have noticed that when people threaten you with telling the truth they invariably become rude.”
“It will not be rudeness on my part to suggest to you that it is not quite fair for you to stake counters in a game where the other player stakes gold.”